


Loved (You First)

by agenthill



Series: And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join [35]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-01-31 19:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12688809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agenthill/pseuds/agenthill
Summary: What would it look like, if Mei could weave hard light into being, as Satya does?  Would she be able to write entire conversations as she spoke them, in abstract form?  Satya imagines the art she made by doing so would be beautiful, would be something for museums.Or,Satya and Mei fall in love, and contemplate the nature of confession.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vic_e_ter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vic_e_ter/gifts).



> happy (slightly belated) birthday to my dear friend viceter. sorry for the delay--i decided i HAD TO rewrite this so... it's late. but better! hopefully it pays off.
> 
> @ everyone else. hello. im back at it again at the krispy kreme w my incredibly rare pair.

I.

It is a Tuesday when Satya realizes that she is in love.  The realization is a strange and sudden thing, but not unwelcome, not really.  A year into knowing Mei, and she knew it would happen, sooner or later—or hoped that it would.  After all, like so many things, falling in love can be reduced down to a binary: one will, or one will not. 

Still, something about Tuesday feels so _ordinary_ , so simple, that Satya wonders how it is that this has happened on today, of all days.  Why is it that now, after having known Mei for months, and known _of_ her for far longer, that she feels this way?  Or did she feel for Mei all along, never realizing that love was growing inside her, until it reached the point when she could ignore it no longer, and sought to burst forth?

For it is seeking so.  A confession sits on the tip of Satya’s tongue, and she thinks it strange.  Confession is not in her nature.  In Vishkar, confessing things meant punishment, meant censure, meant worse—so to confess to love seems so foreign a thing.

(There is, too, the issue of the origin of confession, of the way it is tied to a thousand other things Satya does not believe in.  _Atonement, forgiveness, penance._   The words are heavy in her mouth, and she does not dare to speak them, or even to seek them.  In her next life, she will pay for what she has done in this one—what she does now, she does not do to right her wrongs with Vishkar, does only because it _is_ right to do them. She cannot fathom a version of her life where confession has a place.)

Well, it can wait another day.  Tuesday is too busy a day to confess upon, in any case.  She will hardly see Mei, as her girlfriend is away on an assignment for several more days, and when she does call, Satya doubts Mei will have the energy to discuss this.

For, surely, a discussion must follow.  Being _in love_ is not the same as simply being in a relationship, after all, has different connotation and significance.  She cannot simply tell Mei “I love you,” without such an action having some measure of consequences for the both of them, without them needing to consider how her feelings change things, change this, change _them_.

How will she even broach the topic?    All of the times Satya has loved before, she has not been _in love_ with another person, not in this way.  She has no experience upon which to draw, here, and knows from having been on the receiving end that one being non-reciprocally in love with you is unpleasant, and uncomfortable.

The last thing Satya wishes to do is to make Mei uncomfortable. 

After all, she _loves_ Mei.

Satya supposes she could ask Fareeha, who certainly, from her tales, has experience with loving women, and likely has experience with being _in love_ as well, but Fareeha’s own love life does not inspire much confidence at the moment—she and Dr. Ziegler continue to be in something _approaching_ a relationship, but are still, somehow, not in a relationship proper. 

She could ask Aleks, too, as the two of them are friends, but from the way Aleks attempts to obfuscate at the slightest mention of her own girlfriend, Satya lacks confidence in whether or not Aleks would be comfortable with such a conversation, let alone helpful.

She might, if she were _truly_ desperate ask Torbjörn for advice, but then, perhaps no advice at all would be better.  While Torbjörn might be able to help her, he might, also, begin to act _fatherly_ towards her, as he does towards many of the orphans among Overwatch, and Satya certainly does not need a father.  She never did.

So, she will not ask advice.  She will work this out for herself.  Surely, Satya has faced greater challenges than this.  All she needs is time, time to consider the consequences of love, the risks and the benefits, the ways in which Mei might react to such a confession.

If all is well, and she finds confessing to have a high likelihood of a favorable outcome, then she will act.  Simple.  Just as it ought to be.

 

 

 

II.

Love is not simple, Satya has realized by Wednesday.  As a matter of fact, love is already making her life more complicated.  When she ought to have been thinking about her work, ought to have been finalizing a report for Winston, ought to have been preparing a paper for publication, she was thinking, instead, of being in love, and what that will mean for her.

Are entire relationships like this?  Would allowing herself to continue being in love with Mei mean forfeiting a portion of her focus, of her utility, for feeling?  Will she surrender to distraction?

That, Satya does not want, could never want.  Her work is important to her, first and foremost.  If having someone were to mean surrendering it, Satya would choose her work every time.  Not because she is cold, or uncaring—and not that those are necessarily bad things to be, in certain situations—but because Satya _is_ her work.  She cannot imagine a world in which she is without it, cannot imagine how empty her life would be without the way hard light sings to her as she weaves it, without the ability to affect change on a grand scale, without the ability to create something beautiful when even her words betray her.

If love means that Satya’s work will suffer, then Satya will simply have to stop being in love. 

Such a thing is possible, she knows.  People fall out of love—and usually, they are sad when they do.  She imagines that her self control is such that if she wanted to, she could will herself out of this situation—

—But, if her self control is so great, can she not simply force herself to focus, despite being in love?

Most likely. 

So perhaps falling out of love is not the solution to Satya’s problem.  Perhaps the love itself is not her problem at all—perhaps the issue at hand is that, within Overwatch, Satya has allowed herself to become too comfortable, to become too complacent, has loosened the tight control she learned within Vishkar to hold over herself.

That is, unquestionably, a bad thing, for although many things Vishkar taught her were bad, self control is not one of those many things.  If anything, the ability to keep a tight rein upon her emotions, her thoughts, her impulses has saved her, has allowed her to be as good at her work as she is, has kept her from unravelling.

Chaos makes Satya uncomfortable. 

(Sometimes, order does too, but only when it is imposed by others.  It is all well and good when she is in control of herself, of her own actions, of her own future, that sort of order is safe—but when it is the sort of order that was once imposed upon her?  Chaos almost seems acceptable, in comparison.)

But is that chaos love’s fault?  Or has she simply lacked vigilance against her own complacency?

Certainly, Mei has made her comfortable, but that is not because she is _in love_ with Mei, is something that started before they even began dating, before they were truly friends.  Perhaps it is simply something to do with Mei’s nature, and her own, and an issue unrelated to love entirely.

So long as it is not exacerbated by love, Satya supposes she can set this problem aside, for the time being.  With emotions, causality is difficult to determine, but because love definitively _followed_ comfort, Satya thinks that that, at least, is something she can rule out.

Neither problem is in any way solved by this revelation, but at least she can begin to think about them individually, to unravel them one at a time.  They need not be considered together, although they may intersect with one another.  Surely, she can separate the two.  Surely, she can approach these two problems in a rational manner.

For now, she can return her focus to the problem at hand, to the matter of being _in love_ with Mei, and what that will mean for her, and not to the question of her place in Overwatch.

Well, not now precisely—after she has retired for the night.

First, she must return to her work, the lack of focus on which prompted so much concern in the first place. 

 

 

III.

In her time in Vishkar, Satya ought to have learned the lesson that one cannot separate one’s feelings about individuals within an organization from the feelings one has towards the organization itself.  This is what troubles Satya on Thursday morning.

She wakes from a dream—a nightmare, a memory—about her former partner, whom she loved.  True, she was not _in love_ with him as she is _in love_ with Mei, but they held great affection towards one another, even if, for her part, the sentiment was only one of friendship.  They loved one another, and Vishkar used such against them.

(It was nothing violent, nothing so outwardly terrible, but one does not need to cause physical harm in order to exert control, one need only say _If you do this, you will both be reassigned_ , and say so knowing that the one who hears will know that they will never see the person for whom they care again.  Such was the case for Satya.)

Love was a vulnerability, then, and it will be now.

If she loves Mei, and, more importantly, if others know that she loves Mei, that will only be a weakness to be exploited, access to Mei—or worse, Mei’s health—will become something that can be used against Satya, something that could be used to compel her to stay, if she should ever desire to leave.

Of course, Satya does not imagine that the Overwatch of the present day would do such, but she knows well enough that the very fact that one does not expect a betrayal or manipulation makes it far easier, far more likely to happen.  She does not expect Overwatch to betray her, but she is no fool—one day, they could.

After all, Satya joined Overwatch so that if they ever became like the original Overwatch, if they ever became like Vishkar, corrupted, bloated, rotten to the core, she could destroy them from the inside out.  Now, she finds her goals in alignment with theirs more often than not, believes in them as individuals, and in their cause, but it does not mean that they cannot change, that they cannot become something which she would have no recourse but to destroy.

Loving Mei, and especially being _in love with_ Mei, would complicate things, should such ever come to pass.  Not only would Satya have to worry about Mei being used in order to convince her to stay, she would have to worry about betraying Mei in the process.

Is being in love worth that risk?  Worth the risk Satya runs of hurting herself, if and when she and Mei find themselves on opposite sides of the conference table, with differing opinions as to the morality of Overwatch, as to its nature, as to its future?  She knows, of course that she could _survive_ that, could endure rebuilding herself, has done so before and will do so again, but must she?  Must she put herself in that position, must she run that risk?

And what of Mei?

Would Satya, in doing so, not necessarily put Mei in an uncomfortable position?  Would she not, in doing so, call Mei’s loyalty to Overwatch into question?  Would she not force Mei to choose between organization, friends, and, if reciprocated, love?

Can she force that decision?

Is there any situation in which Satya, claiming to care for Mei and not want to hurt her, can ethically put Mei in such a position where that choice becomes necessary?

Possibly, the inherent ethicality of destroying Overwatch might outweigh such a decision, in the moment, but that does not undo any collateral damage she will do to Mei in the process, only makes it the _right_ decision, for the greater good.

Although Satya does not allow them to interfere with her work, these questions plague her throughout her morning routine, her lunchbreak, her afternoon coffee break, and well into and past dinner. 

Eventually, however, she reaches the only rational conclusion to her problem: loving people always involves a form of risk.  Risk that they will die, risk that one’s love will not be returned, risk that one’s lover will betray them—in some form, at least—and that, so long as she informs Mei of her possible intentions prior to confessing her feelings, then Mei will be able to make the decision for herself whether or not this is a risk she wishes to run.

But here is the second problem: is confessing her love to Mei worth the risks she herself runs, given the nature of what she would be admitting?

Satya does not know, not yet.

 

 

 

IV.

The question of whether or not loving Mei is worth the risk answers itself when Satya makes her coffee Friday morning. 

Normally, she prefers something weaker, but since she has been in a relationship with Mei she has brewed stronger coffee than is her preference, so that they can share the same pot in the mornings.  It is a little thing, the slightest modification of her behavior, but it nonetheless has happened, and become so ingrained in her that she does so even when Mei is away.  Their lives have begun to twine around one another’s, and even if they were to break up, the changes they have caused in each other will not be so easily undone.

Indeed, these changes were the type that tend to last, were consciously cultivated habits—she and Mei have not conformed to one another naturally, were not made for each other, but rather they have, through conscious decisions and discussions, altered their lives in order to best accommodate the needs of one another.  Their synergy is hard won, and Satya finds she does not want to see it sacrificed so easily. 

Change, after all, is often difficult for Satya.  She likes her routine as it is for a reason, has worked hard to find what suits her best, so why should she surrender it for the comfort of another?  But up until now, there has been no question that to do so in order to live better with Mei is worth such—and, indeed, there is little question now.

(This says much about Mei; for so long as Satya can remember she has been exacting, precise, even intractable, according to some, but the concessions Mei asked were always reasonable, and more than, and Mei ensured that she always gave just as much as Satya, so theirs were fair trades.  Never has Satya worked so easily with another in her life, and she doubts if she ever will again.)

If Mei has been worth allowing change for—and she has—then, perhaps, risk is not unwarranted?   Naturally, it would make Satya’s life harder if she were forced to leave Overwatch, would make it more difficult for her to accomplish her task should Overwatch ever need to be destroyed, but it would not make such _impossible_ , would not preclude Satya achieving her goal, and in any case, would Mei truly send her away?

No.

Mei knows, just as she, that an enemy nearby is far safer than one unseen and unknown.  Even if Mei disapproved, Satya would be allowed to stay within Overwatch, without question.  From Talon, from the first Overwatch, they have all, within their little organization, learned their lesson about enemies unknown, be it by first or secondhand.

So, truly, what Satya is jeopardizing by confessing to Mei her involvement is not her larger goal, to ensure that Overwatch does not exceed what it was meant to do, does not overstep its bounds—what Satya is jeopardizing is this, only what she and Mei have in the present.

Does she wish to risk this friendship, this relationship—being lovers without having stated themselves to be _in love_ —on a whim, to satisfy a desire to confess for which she cannot name the origin?

Yes, is the surprising answer, she does.

Yes, because it is not for anyone that she would change herself, yes because, as she is starting to realize, she has heading towards this inevitable conclusion for some time now, yes because, whether she says it or not, she thinks she is likely already in love with Mei.

Why, though?  That is harder to name.  What is it about Mei that has made her fall in love, has made Satya feel as if Mei is, somehow, the most important person in the world—even if she knows that to be objectively false? 

Why does she love Mei, a woman who is, in many aspects her opposite?

 

 

V.

Saturday marks Mei’s return—and with it, some uncertainty.  How, now, ought Satya to behave around her?  Should she change her actions, in any way, knowing what she does?  What is acceptable behavior in this situation?

Rather than rushing to be at Mei’s side, Satya finds herself, instead, watching from afar, as if merely by observing Mei she might come to discover the answer to the questions which have hounded her for the past week, as if they were written in Mei’s smiles or coded in the number of times she blinks per minute.

Instead, when Satya looks at Mei, she sees something else—how considerate Mei is, to everyone.

(This consideration, she knows, is not an innate trait, is something, rather, that Mei honed over the years, in order to facilitate working in close quarters for long periods of time as her job requires.  It would not do to annoy someone and fracture a relationship irreparably just three weeks into a seven month arctic deployment.)

If Satya did not know this about Mei, did not know just how far out of her way her girlfriend goes to ensure that others are comfortable, she might be tempted to dismiss some of Mei’s actions as human error, as simple variation resulting from the fact that she is flesh and blood, not hard light and steel.  But knowing what she does, Satya sees the differences in how near Mei stands to her colleagues, Fareeha (15cm) and Dr. Ziegler (85cm), for what they are: a careful consideration of the preferences of the two when it comes to personal space and conversational distance. 

(Accounting for the differences in Fareeha and Dr. Ziegler’s preferences is, in particular, a challenge, for the two of them do not obey consistent rules with one another, and so it becomes quickly awkward to find an angle at which to stand which allows one the correct proximity to both when speaking.  Yet, somehow, Mei always manages.  Satya herself avoids the problem, and the myriad of others which seem to accompany them, by only engaging with the pair when they are apart.)

Before her, the conversation has turned to conservation and indigenous peoples’ fishing rights, something about which both Mei and Fareeha are passionate, and Dr. Ziegler appears to be, at the very least, engaged in, but Satya finds that, despite finding the topic somewhat interesting, her attention is still drawn to Mei, to the way she moves as she speaks, quick but pointless gestures to punctuate her point.

What would it look like, if Mei could weave hard light into being, as Satya does?  Would she be able to write entire conversations as she spoke them, in abstract form?  Satya imagines the art she made by doing so would be beautiful, would be something for museums.

Satya creates art with her hard light, sometimes, but she was always told it lacked creativity, lacked passion, was not _true_ art. 

Mei’s would be.  Mei is nothing if not passionate—passionate about her work, about her friends, about her ideals, and Satya realizes, quite suddenly, that this is another reason why she loves Mei, is _in love_ with Mei.

Where Satya worries, sometimes that she is too cold, too dispassionate, being around Mei reminds her of what it is to love things, to love one’s work, to be wholly invested in what one does, and reminds her that such is a valid form of expression.  Just because Satya has always—up to and including now—loved her work before anything else, does not mean that she is any of the things others have said about her.

Mei understands Satya’s passion for hard light, for being an architech, because Mei is the same; perhaps she is more personable than Satya, and that love extends to other things beyond her work, but that does not make the core of their love of their work any different.

If Mei can care so much for what it is she does, and in her it is seen as admirable, as beautiful, as something which is to be admired, then perhaps Satya, too, can be seen in the same light, perhaps that which others condemned in her can be be lovable.

Indeed, Mei, if no one else, seems to appreciate Satya for whom she is and, selfishly, Satya loves her for it, loves Mei for allowing her to see the best in herself, for somehow creating an avenue by which Satya is learning to love the parts of herself she once hated the most.

 

 

VI.

Sunday, and Satya knows, now, why she loves Mei, knows that it is worthwhile to be in love with Mei, to make herself vulnerable by loving, by being in love, knows that she _is_ going to tell Mei that she loves her, but does not know how.

What, indeed, should she say? How can she broach the topic? The question is the same one which initially vexed her on Tuesday, and it is no less vexing with the not inconsiderable insight she has gained into herself and their relationship. What does one do about being in love? How does one prepare oneself for the vulnerability of admission, for the fear of rejection? What can one say, that encompasses all that one feels in such a moment, and makes clear the careful consideration that has gone into a confession?

Surely, it is not as simple as saying _I love you_ , not as simple as leaning over, while the two of them are next to one another in bed, and whispering such a thing in Mei's ear, is not something to be blurted out, but rather it is meant to be couched in careful conversation, with a full discussion taking place about the confession, about the risks and benefits of pursuing a more serious relationship. Surely, she could not just _say_ such a thing.

She must somehow prepare Mei, prepare herself, prepare both of them for such a thing, knowing that it has the potential to change much.

But how to do it?

Several times, as they take tea together, she thinks to start a conversation, opens her mouth to begin a sentence only to abruptly stop, realizing she does not know how it is to say what it is she truly means, does not know how to explain the context behind her concerns and her phrasing.

(She is beginning, she thinks, to understand the trouble Fareeha and Angela seem to have. While it is true that she and Mei have at least reached the point where the two of them are firmly and definitively _in a relationship_ , confessing, negotiating, and navigating feelings is quite complicated, at times.)

Mei must notice the trouble Satya is having, for she asks if there is something troubling her and Satya—for the first time since she decided to leave Vishkar, Satya feels a coward, and backs down, creates some lie about a particular engineering problem being on her mind, finds herself confessing to Mei the (not untrue) fact that she initially grew fascinated with Mei because she wondered what had happened to her lost expedition, how an entire research station could vanish.

Such is not a pleasant topic for Mei, and Satya ought to know better, ought not to say such things, ought not to make Mei unsettled—such was the opposite of her intent. But for whatever reason, Mei does not shy away from the conversation, but perks up, seems eager to talk about it, admits that it has been troubling her for some time, and that everyone else seems uncomfortable when she brings it up.

Quite suddenly, Satya finds herself drawn back into the mystery which brought them together, and it is almost enough to distract her from the problem at hand, would be, were it not for the fact that it reminds her so strongly of one of the other reasons she fell in love with Mei: no matter what, Mei never gave up hope. When everything, even her place in time, was lost to her, Mei found a way to build a new meaning for herself, to pick up the pieces of her life that remained and reforge them into something new, something better.

That same fortitude is what inspired Satya after leaving Vishkar, encouraged her to build a new path—the same one which, eventually, brought her to where she sits right now, across from the woman she is in love with, wanting very much to just uncharacteristically blurt out such a confession, even as she knows it is not the best way of going about things.

Here is a funny thing Satya has realized about being in love: everything comes back to her feelings, sooner or later.

 

 

VII.

When Monday morning comes, Satya finds herself still wrestling with her Tuesday problem.  Unsurprisingly, she is still in love with Mei but, frustratingly, she has done nothing about it.

Or, rather, what things she has done about it have consisted mainly of thinking, and the occasional fruitless attempt to broach the topic, which in Satya’s eyes may as well be nothing, as the situation is no closer to being resolved than it was previously.

(This is not to say that Satya thinks that all efforts which prove ultimately fruitless amount to nothing, only that she often thinks so of her own pursuits.  Like so many other people, she holds herself to a higher standard than she would anyone else.)

So she finds herself, yet again, in the same laboratory in which she met Mei—truly met her—for the first time, in the same laboratory in which they became friends, in the same laboratory which, last Tuesday, she realized she did not only love Mei but was _in love_ with Mei.

The two of them are not working, though, perhaps, they ought to be.  Instead, they are still talking about the issue of yesterday, of Ecopoint: Antarctica, of how it was lost and how Mei ensured that she, at least, was found.

They are still going over the story, and have only just reached the point at which Mei reveals that she herself constructed her endothermic blaster—a fact Satya was, somehow, not previously aware of, and is duly impressed by given Mei’s lack of an engineering background—when Satya suddenly realized that, if she does not tell Mei that she loves her _today_ , then chances are good that she may do so on a Tuesday.

Being in love is not, as she decided the week prior, a Tuesday issue.

Tuesdays are mundane, are boring—very little that Satya considers to be of great importance has ever happened on a Tuesday, and she will _not,_ insofar as it is in her power, cause any of her significant life events to occur on a Tuesday.

“I love you,” says she—blurts it out, just as she promised she would not.  It is a true confession that way, at least, not a pronouncement, not a speech, is genuine and unrehearsed—but still, how gauche!  She regrets it nearly immediately.

“I’m sorry?’ says Mei.

Although the two of them have been in a relationship for a few months now, neither of them have said, yet, that they love the other, or neither had until just now.

“I’m in love with you,” she repeats, just in case the cause for Mei’s confusion is that she misheard, and not the more likely fact that this came apropos of nothing, and likely seems like a highly inappropriate time to be confessing such things.

“No,” says Mei, “I heard that part.  But I feel like I’m missing something here.  This isn’t the most romantic conversation.”

“No,” Satya agrees, “But I thought it best I not tell you on a Tuesday.”

“Oh,” says Mei, as if that clears everything up—and perhaps it does, perhaps Satya has mentioned her dislike of the day previously, and Mei is remembering.  But perhaps she is simply saying oh because she has nothing else to say.

“There was more I wanted to say about this,” Satya admits, because it is true, there is _much_ more they have to discuss before this conversation is over, before Mei knows everything she needs to in order to fully understand the conversation and return the sentiment, if she does, “We should definitely discuss it when we are finished with our work here.”

“Okay,” Mei answers, a bit uncertainly, and Satya is relieved that she does not say _I love you_ in return, is relieved that she does not rush in, as Satya herself did, and jump prematurely to end of things, having not taken time to discuss and carefully consider the whole of their situation.

Later, they can return to the matter of love, once this problem has been solved.  For now, the worry of confessing is done with, and Mei—although she did not reciprocate—did not seem off-put by the initial confession, despite its poor timing and delivery.  The outcome of this seems promising.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had this done... p much since i posted ch1. but 10k at once is a little unwieldy so it had to be split in two

I.

Mei realizes she is in love in September, when the first chill of Autumn hits the air and Satya begins to wear light jackets.

Her love does not manifest itself as anything beautiful, not at first, is not born of admiration, adoration, or even of wanting, it is simply this: the thought that it is cold, and that Satya ought to be shielded from such.

(Cold is good, Mei knows this from her research.  Global warming is harmful and she should be happy that climate change has slowed to the point it has, where winters still occur as they did fifty years ago—she should consider herself fortunate, for this was almost not the case.  Yet when she thinks of the cold she thinks of Antarctica, thinks of waking up, and of no one else doing the same, thinks of digging her way out of the Ecopoint, thinks of the long, long walk to the nearest observation station, how she almost died on that trek.  Cold is good, this Mei knows, but she cannot always believe it.)

When Mei first sees Satya shiver—for she, having lived her entire life in India, is most vulnerable of all of them to the cold—she thinks that nothing good will come of it, recognizes the first sign of winter and is afraid.

Not for herself, but, curiously, for Satya, Satya who never encased herself in ice, or went willingly to a place man was not meant to inhabit, Satya who has never known _true_ cold, and hopefully never will.  Mei sees Satya shiver and she _fears_ for her, for what she knows winter can winter will do, and what it can do is terrible.

She fears for Satya, and not herself, although surely she has more to fear, being the one of the two of them whose job obliges that she go outside.  Surely she has more to fear, knowing what winter has done to her once, it can do again.  Surely she has more to fear, having only just escaped winter the last time.

This is how Mei knows that she is in love: when the first wind of autumn blows and Satya shivers in the breeze, Mei thinks she would endure Antarctica all over again, before she wished it on anyone else, wishes that Satya will never know the cold, as she has.

Why is this love?  Because everything Mei loves, she would sacrifice herself to protect: her former coworkers, with whom she would have gladly switched places, her planet, for whom she very nearly did die, and now, most recently, Satya.

Not all love is born of sacrifice, of a willingness to die for a cause, a person, a feeling, but such is the form of love Mei has come to know best, and so it is that impulse which first leads Mei to recognize her love, even if she has felt it for some time.

Looking back, it is easy to see her love for Satya, in the way they work together, in the way they speak together, in the things they have accomplished and the ones they yet hope to.  Love is rarely as simple as a willingness to die for someone, is rarely so desperate, and hers, certainly, is not, extends beyond such noble things and into simple joy upon seeing Satya smile, and the knowledge that the two of them are working to build a better life—for themselves and for the world—together. 

Love is rarely as simple as a willingness to die for someone and yet, this is where theirs begins.

Yes, if need be, Mei would sacrifice herself for many on their team, would surrender her life so that theirs might be extended, but such sentiment on the battlefield is far removed from this, from watching Satya shiver and realizing that she would suffer Antarctica all over again, if it were a choice between the two of them doing so.  Dying to protect the life of a teammate is nothing like this, like willingly suffering for someone else.

How strange, to be in love.  How strange that something so small as a little breeze could turn her thoughts so dark.  How strange, to think them beautiful nonetheless.

 

 

II.

In October, Mei and Satya begin dating—officially, at least.  In their own way, Mei thinks that they have been seeing each other already for some time, and it has shown in the little ways they do things differently around one another, in the gentleness that just barely tinges Satya’s tone when they speak, never present with anyone else, in the way they are able to work around one another in their lab, sometimes comfortably silent for hours on end and sometimes talking the day away, in the little concessions they make for one another, to make their lives easier lived as one.

(Mei is, of course, conscientious to a fault, and she is that way towards everyone, and not only towards Satya.  However, her girlfriend is the only person for whom Mei is delighted to make the occasional concession, for the sake of her happiness—with everyone else, it is best practice when living together, or friendship, and little more.  While Mei might not _begrudge_ her friends the fact that she sometimes inconveniences herself for their happiness, it is only doing so for Satya which in fact brings her some measure of joy, in and of itself, is only Satya who makes the unpleasant pleasant, and not merely worthwhile.)

Now that they are in a relationship, however, Mei faces a further obstacle to telling Satya that she loves her: it seems somehow too soon.

If Mei had professed her love prior to entering into a relationship, it would not bear with it the weight of expectation, would not seem to presume that Satya will reciprocate, that their relationship is riding on such a fact.

Never mind that Mei does not require—or even, at this early stage, expect—her love to be returned, it is the principle of the thing.  In general, if one states that they love another with whom they are dating, it is assumed to be make or break, to be somehow vital to the continued health of the arrangement.

Mei would not want to put that sort of pressure on Satya.  To do so would be the opposite of conscientiousness, would be boorish in the extreme.

While Mei may be many things, not all of them good, she is _not_ a boor.

Of course, one does not know for a fact that Satya would respond to being told Mei loves her by feeling pressured to reply—indeed, such seems unlikely, but there is always the risk of such a thing happening, is always the chance that she might ask Fareeha or Reinhardt or—heaven forbid—Genji, all of whom know how these things generally go, and be told to either answer in kind or end the relationship.

All things, to Satya, become a binary choice, in the end, something to be done or not to.  Mei therefore thinks it reasonable to worry about forcing the issue.

Already, Mei has lost more than enough people to carelessness, even if that carelessness was not her own, in the case of Ecopoint: Antarctica.  She does not want to risk losing Satya to the same, and by her own doing, this time.

So Mei waits, all through October, bites her tongue and bides her time.  Sometimes, the light will catch Satya just so, or she will say something so very _her,_ or Mei will have the good fortune to see her dancing, and Mei will think _I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you_ , but she will not say it, will wait.

Mei can be patient, she knows this.  If she could lose five years to administrative error, then she can stand to wait five more months before confessing her love.  Time is on her side, frozen as she was, it has brought she and Satya closer together in age and given them more years to be with one another, if all goes well.

Why would she jeopardize the only reason for which she is grateful to have been in ice?  Why would she risk losing that, because sometimes she can be too eager?

She would not, she will not.

Time has taken enough from Mei, it will be on her side in this. 

 

 

III.

When November rolls around, Mei realizes that not once has Satya yet indicated that she loves Mei in return.

Then, the first doubt comes in.

The two of them have discussed prior relationships in some capacity in the past, but it is not until the beginning of November that Satya mentions casually, in passing, that although she has loved all of her partners, in some capacity or another, she has never been _in_ love with one of them, not yet.

Then, Mei realizes, that all along she has taken for granted that it is not a matter of _when_ will be a good time to profess her love to Satya, but _if_ there shall be one.  It may be that, no matter how long Mei waits, Satya will never reciprocate her feelings—not because she believes Satya is incapable of such, far from it, but because, unlike herself, Satya seems to fall in love rarely.

(A not so insignificant part of Mei wishes that she could say the same, that she had not been in love some three—or ten, depending on how one counts her lost time—years before.  Perhaps, then, her loss at Ecopoint: Antarctica would not have felt quite so total.  Perhaps, then, she might have saved herself a small piece of heartbreak along the way.  Perhaps, then this whole notion of being in love would not seem so difficult and dangerous an affair.  Or perhaps not.  Mei cannot know if feeling differently would have been any better, only that it would not be the same.)

What will Mei do, if Satya never falls in love with her? 

Will she wait indefinitely, frozen—no, stuck—between futilely professing her own feelings and leaving?  Could she accept being with a partner who was not _in love_ with her, in the same way she herself loves Satya, or would it feel empty, incomplete, like enduring?  Would she leave, move on, and hope that she falls in love with another, one who loves her too?

She realizes that she has answers to none of these questions, for it is something she never considered; so much of she and Satya’s relationship is so _easy_ that it seems only natural that they would fall in love with one another, that things between them will work out for the best without her even trying, that such a relationship _ought_ to grow between them organically.

But what if one does not?

What if things being easy and going well, until now, does not guarantee that they will continue to do so in the future, does not indicate that things were ever meant to progress beyond this point?  What if, like Satya’s hard light constructions, what seems beautiful and organic is still lifeless—painstakingly constructed, after all, will thought going into even the faults.

Would Satya lie to her, and say that she loved Mei, if that was what she believed Mei wanted to hear?

No.  No, that thought is ridiculous—Satya is honest nearly to a fault.  Never would she lie to Mei, even if the lie was ostensibly for Mei’s benefit.  To worry about her doing such a thing is absurd.

The greater worry is only this, is no fault of Satya’s own, or truly anything to do with her, is only the question: Would Mei be able to be in love with someone who was not in love with her in return?  It is her own selfishness which would prove the obstacle, in such a situation, her own desire for more than, perhaps, what Satya is willing to offer her, her own need to be loved in return in order for her own feelings to be, in her eyes, valid and not futile, her own inability to content herself with anything Satya might have to offer.

Can she call that selfish?

Surely, everyone wants to be loved—but Mei is no fool, either, knows that for her the need to feel as if she is connected to those around her is somewhat greater than most, as a result of what happened, knows that she needs to feel anchored, after the Ecopoint, needs something to tie her to here and now.  None of that is Satya’s fault, however.  It hardly seems fair to burden her with it.

Yet, that is the thing with being in love.  Nothing can make it fair, nor rationalize it, and fair or not, Mei doubts she will stop loving Satya, even if she has scared herself off from speaking of it.

 

 

IV.

In December, Satya confesses her love to Mei.

Perhaps, in another world, that would be an end to things, would mean that Mei sets aside her worry and admits that such feelings are reciprocal.  Instead, in the moment, Mei is frozen again, and does not reply.

(In all fairness, she is hardly expecting the revelation.  Satya’s timing, normally immaculate, seems, for once, inopportune.  There is a time and a place for confessing one’s love, and in their shared lab when discussing the fate of the lost Ecopoint: Antarctica hardly seems like it.  Mei knows Satya’s aversion to important things happening on Tuesday—almost understands it—but could she not have waited until Wednesday?  Surely Mei has waited far longer; what more would one day have mattered?)

Besides the timing, there is the matter of what follows: Satya did not join Overwatch for the same reason Mei did, nor for the reason _any_ of the rest of them did (except, perhaps, for Angela, they are all happy to see Overwatch returned, and even if Angela begrudges its existence, has come back only out of duty, she would never do what Satya is proposing to, even were it necessary), but instead joined up in the knowledge that, perhaps, she might one day destroy them, if she finds it necessary.

Mei is not sure what to make of that.

On some level, she is horrified, feels allegiance still to the organization which left her for dead, frozen under feet of snow far, far south of headquarters.  On another—she understands.  After all, she knows what it is Overwatch became, what it was becoming already when the cold took her, what it was that _allowed_ her to be left, as she was.

Which scares her more, she cannot say: finding Satya’s motivation unfathomable, or finding it rational.

So Mei cannot return Satya’s love, not yet, not when it is first brought to the fore, for she suddenly realizes that Satya is not the woman she thought, not quite, and she does not know if and how she can love a woman who would join an organization only so, if necessary, she can bring it down, does not know what it would say about her that while she does not _endorse_ such a position, in and of itself, she can see why Satya might feel that way.

Does Mei not owe some allegiance to Overwatch?

A part of her thinks to report Satya, for that is what she ought to do, thinks to say: this is who she really is, this is what she has truly done, and this is what she means to do.  But then, she thinks again, remembers what it was like to wake, after so many years frozen, and to read the headlines, to see what Overwatch had become, and to know that none of the good people she knew stopped it, either because their ideals blinded them or because they lacked the pragmatism necessary to do what needed to be done and to end things.

Satya would be held back by neither an unwillingness to see corruption—not any more, at least—nor an unwillingness to root it out.

_If there had been someone like Satya in Overwatch before_ , a small voice in the back of Mei’s head whispers to her, _Might you have been saved sooner?_

After all, it was infighting due to corruption which distracted the original Overwatch from her research station’s plight, which prevented them from allocating the resources necessary to find her.

Someone like Satya, then, might have saved Mei—and so, even though she thinks perhaps she _ought_ to, even though such an aim is completely opposed to Mei’s own, rather more optimistic outlook on life, she cannot find Satya’s motivations so terrible.

But it does, for a moment, make her wonder if she _loves_ Satya, if she is in love with a woman about whom she evidently knows so little.

So, when Satya confesses her love, Mei hesitates, and does not return the sentiment.

 

 

V.

In January, Mei thinks she has accepted Satya for whom she is, can live with Satya’s motivations and the potential repercussions upon herself, if ever Overwatch comes to the point where Satya feels the need to defect.

After all, Mei is beginning to believe that what it would take for it to reach that point, in Satya’s eyes, would be enough that she herself would have left already.  She would sooner they learn from the mistakes of the past than risk repeating them, and if ever she feels that Overwatch is not doing so, is becoming what it was before, when it left her entire Ecopoint to die—it would not further her goals to stay.

So it is no great sacrifice, to be complicit in Satya’s hypothetical sedition, particularly if she did not participate directly.

(For Mei still cannot quite grasp a world where she herself orchestrates the demise of the Recall, even if she can agree with such a decision—there are too many here whom she loves, if not in the same way she loves Satya.  Perhaps this makes her a coward, that she would encourage such a thing, but not partake in the doing herself, but Mei has lost enough friends, seen enough of them dead for a lifetime.  She could never directly intervene, in a case such as that, could only warn those whom she believed innocent to cut their ties before herself fleeing.)

Mei would lose those whom she loves in other ways, if it meant not losing Satya.

That is her other great fear—the losing.  Losing those she cares about in general terrifies her, but the thought of losing _Satya_ in specific is the worst.

After all, Mei has already lost a person whom she loves, with whom she is in love.

It was not her fault, what happened at the Ecopoint, would have happened regardless of if she had been in love or not but—well, knowing certain things does not make them any easier.  Knowing that she could not have prevented _her_ death, just as she may not be able to prevent Satya’s, does not make things any easier, particularly not in January, when it is coldest.

It may not snow at Watchpoint: Gibraltar, and that is a small blessing in and of itself, but even so, every shiver is followed shortly by a shudder, by the horror of remembering, the encroaching dread that accompanies nightfall as she thinks of what it was like when she woke up, so cold and dark and alone.

How can she say she loves Satya, living in fear as she does now?  How can she allow herself to be _in love with_ Satya, to have the joy that accompanies such a mutual feeling, when she knows what it is that she might lose?

Again, Mei feels selfish—feels it is unfair to Satya not to have told her, by now, that her feelings are returned, but Mei does not know if she _can_ allow that risk, if she could survive another loss so great as the first.

Mei thought, two short months ago, that never having Satya’s love would be a terrible thing.

Now, Mei fears something greater: to have that love, and to have it taken from her, to lose it and Satya in one blow.

What would Mei do, if such a thing were to happen?  Already, she has rebuilt her life once, and it was hard enough; how could she expect herself to do so again?

Why does she think that losing Satya would be so bad as losing all the years she did, encased in ice?

Surely, the loss would be lesser.  One love, but not her life, not her work, not her world, not her time, not years and years, and the sense of safety and security she once held.  But already, such a loss feels as if it would be nearly equal in magnitude.  Surely, if she were to profess her feelings, the cost would only grow.

Then what would Mei do?  Where would she be?  Navigating her way out of Antarctica was hard, but at least, there, she had a clear destination.  Where does one go, after a profound loss?  Where _can_ one go?

In the cold of winter, when night falls to early, it is hard to see any way out, so Mei bides her time, and she waits for the thaw.

 

 

VI.

By the time February rolls around, Mei has found a new thing to worry about: that she has taken too long to admit that she returns Satya’s feelings.  It is unfair of her to have made Satya wait, to have expected that Satya would be there, when she was ready, to have assumed that what Satya feels would not change with time.

True, Satya has not complained about it, has voiced no concern over the fact that Mei has not indicated a reciprocation of her feelings, but just because Satya does not _say_ something, does not mean that she does not believe it.  This, Mei learned from the revelation about why it was Satya joined Overwatch, and will not soon forget.

There is another concern—if Satya is hurt by Mei not saying, too that she is in love with Satya, why has she not said anything?  Is that not, too, a problem, an indication of something that might go wrong, further down the line, proof they do not communicate well enough? 

Or does Satya truly not mind if Mei does not reciprocate her feelings—is being in love in such a way that reciprocation does not matter the same kind of love Mei is experiencing when she says that she loves Satya?  Are their goals, their worldviews, truly so aligned as they would like to believe?

Perhaps Mei is just being ridiculous, perhaps it is out of respect for Mei’s feelings and need for space that Satya has not pressed the issue.  That seems likely enough, but still, Mei cannot quite shake her anxiety, cannot shake the impression that _something_ is wrong.

Perhaps it is just the wintertime.  Perhaps, come spring, everything will seem clearer, and Mei will wonder why she ever worried so much.  Perhaps not.

(This is the hardest part of Mei’s life in a world post-Ecopoint: Antarctica.  She cannot be certain anymore how much of who she is, what she thinks, what she does is natural growth, is the type of change that comes with age and living in a new situation, and what of it is trauma.  Sometimes, it is hard to tell her rational thoughts from her irrational ones.  In most cases, Satya can help her with this.  When Satya is the one who is principally cause for concern… the issue is far murkier.  But Mei will try, she will try to sort things out, to live her life with as much certainty as she can, both for Satya and herself.)

If it truly is the winter which causes her such stress, which makes things so difficult, if the cold is serving as a reminder of that which is ephemeral, of that which she has lost, that which she might still, then Mei ought to wait, ought to see if she feels the same in spring.

But, if it is not the wintertime, her life will only be made harder by the waiting, the subject will only grow more difficult to broach by the day.

What, Mei wonders, would Satya prefer?  After all, this matter is one which concerns her as well.

That question is far simpler than the others.

Satya would prefer she wait, prefer she examine the situation from every angle possible and be sure, be certain, know beyond all doubt before ever daring to broach the topic.

Satya is methodical, Satya is thorough.  It has made her a great engineer, a great architech.  Mei can appreciate the way she measures, remeasures, and remeasures again before at last she is done.  If more people did so, Mei would not be in the position she is now, would never have been lost in the first place.

So Mei will wait, if only because patience is one of the many traits she admires in Satya, if only because she believes that Satya would do the same.  Mei will wait, because above all things Satya values certainty, values honesty, values when people tell her the whole of a situation—and Mei needs more time before she can do so.  Mei will wait, and she will learn, and when the time comes, then she will speak but not a moment sooner.

This is what is best for the both of them, and so it is what must be done.

 

 

VII.

Mei loves Satya, she knows this is March as she knew it in September.  Despite her concerns, despite the changing of the seasons, despite the half a year that has passed, Mei loves Satya, is _in love_ with Satya, and will continue to be.  Nothing will change that now.

There are risks to love, there always have been, but Mei will accept them, for even if she does not profess her love to Satya, she will continue to feel it, and therefore no risk is mitigated by staying silent.  Her love will not fade with time, does not need to be reciprocated to flourish—it is, perhaps, inescapable.

So why run from it?

It is a strange thing to do, gathering the courage to tell a woman that she loves her, is in love with her, strange to think that in another life, for another Mei, this was far easier, but that she will never be that woman again, and that woman might not have come to be in love with Satya.  It is a strange thing, but doubtless one that is worthwhile.

(And what about their lives is not strange?  What could be said to be ordinary about their situation?  She, a climatologist turned soldier, and Satya an architech on the same route?  Neither of them live the lives they believed that they would, and some days that is harder to accept than others, but most—most it feels ordinary, now.  If Mei can grow used to taking orders from a genetically modified gorilla from space, then surely she can do anything.  Surely, she can allow herself to be in love.)

“Satya?” Mei asks, and she is certain it must seem sudden, as they were working in silence in their shared lab until now.  The fact that it is a Monday is not lost on Mei.  A tiny mirror into the past.

“Yes, Mei?” says she, always so proper, so in control.

“I’ve considered it,” she says, both stalling for time and answering in advance the question she knows Satya will ask, “At length,” an understatement, “And I think I’m in love with you, too.”

Something in the way Satya arches a brow asks _Are you certain?_ and Mei is, knew even before she began this conversation, hesitant though she was.  Despite her worrying, she has always been certain, on some level.

“I know you told me months ago,” it is not an apology, not really, and Satya does not seem to require one, “But I needed time—time to think through all the possible complications, and be sure.”  Thoroughness, Satya will appreciate.

“I see,” says Satya, “It is good to know that we are, as ever, in harmony.”

Mei begins to sag a bit in relief; all of that worry and now—

“However,” Satya says, holding up one perfectly straight finger before Mei can pull her in for a kiss, can close the door on this period of worrying and wondering and wanting, “I do have one question: Why now?”

The symmetry of this conversation is not at all lost on Mei, just as she is certain that it is not on Satya—perhaps she thinks that the decision to profess her feelings on a Monday was a deliberate one.

“I couldn’t tell you in the wintertime,” Mei begins with honesty, and to tease a look of confusion out of Satya’s face at the somewhat unexpected response, before she breaks into a grin continues “And I didn’t want to tell you on a Tuesday.”

Now Satya smiles, too, likely pleased by the fact that the response is one which neatly ties their confessions together, Mei’s a refraction, if not a reflection, of her own.  Mei thinks that it is a pity that Satya’s smile is so beautiful, because she cannot see it when they kiss.  She pulls Satya in, relies only on being able to feel that smile against her own, and for a moment there is stillness, is contentment, before she realizes she has forgotten something.

Jerking backwards, she breaks the kiss, half laughing at herself, “I love you!”  She nearly shout it, but she does not care who overhears, “I can’t believe—all these months, and when I finally tell you I forgot to actually say the words!”

Fortunately for Mei, Satya does not laugh at her, only repeats an “I love you,” in return. 

They are in perfect alignment once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> & thats that
> 
> also i almost emailed this to a coworker on accident. imagine ur living ur life then ur coworker emails u "WHAT_THE_FUCK_IS_A_CHONCE.docx" and u open it and... its this. wwyd?
> 
> anyway thanks for reading hopefully you ARENT my coworker and if u are... im sorry kayla u share a first name w a pharmercy fanartist lmao
> 
> \- rory

**Author's Note:**

> so ends... part one. part two to come whenever nanowrimo stops kicking my ass. so who knows.
> 
> but u will get mei's point of view then. which hopefully will not disappoint.


End file.
